


Aghast: Knotting

by the_ragnarok



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Knotting, M/M, Not!Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-19
Updated: 2013-05-19
Packaged: 2017-12-12 13:16:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/811989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_ragnarok/pseuds/the_ragnarok
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A way in a crowded wall of muscle that won’t let anything through it; Sidney’s not new to that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aghast: Knotting

Hockey means you’re used to pain, used to working your body to its limit. This shouldn’t be any different, Sid tells himself, and grits his teeth against the sensation of Geno inside him. It’s just like physio: it hurts, because he’s got something that needs fixing, and this will fix it.

Except then Geno pulls back, and Sid is simultaneously relieved and wants to kick something.

“No,” he groans. He hates the sound of his own voice like this, weak and shaky. _Whiny_ , they call him on the ice,  _whiny bitch_ , and they talk shit about him going into heat for them. That’s just talk, it doesn’t hurt Sid’s  _feelings_ or anything dumb like that, but right now he’s one big exposed nerve, everything right there on the surface.

Geno’s hands are on his skin now, big warm hands, and they feel perfect. “Is not for pain,” Geno says, quiet and insistent. “Not feel good, I not do.”

“I need it,” Sidney says, and hates the words. “Come  _on_.”

“Soon.” Geno keeps petting him, rhythmic, hypnotic. “Breathe.”

Sidney resists the urge to roll his eyes, matches his breaths to Geno’s. Sid knows how to take instruction, how to learn. He’s never had to deal with real heats, the suppressants always worked so well before. He doesn’t know what’s fucked with them now.

“Not breathing,” Geno admonishes.

“Am too,” Sid grumbles, but he puts the worries away for now, focusing on what his body needs to do.

 _Open_ , he thinks, and he imagines it like a course on the ice. A way in a crowded wall of muscle that won’t let anything through it; Sidney’s not new to that.

Geno’s fingering him again, and Sid wants to snap at him, but Geno asks, “Tell me,” so Sid does. Gives Geno his play plans, and Geno laughs.

“Sid,” he says, low and so very warm. “Is not other team. You  _captain_ ,” and just like that Sid gets it. He breathes deep, tastes their mingled scents. Feels his body relax and reshape, like warm wax under Geno’s strong fingers.

“Good,” Geno says, thick. “Good.” He pushes in, just one stroke now and that’s all he needs before he’s in. His hands are on Sid’s shoulders now, kneading, not letting Sid tense back up.

He doesn’t need to. Sid knows what his body’s doing now, how to command it, and he says so.

Geno chuckles. “Want to.” He presses kisses to the nape of Sid’s neck. Sid shivers and closes his eyes.

Then it’s effortless, smooth. Their bodies know how to move together, and Sid knows to be ready before Geno gasps, “Coming— knot—”

And it should hurt. It does hurt. The burn you get after a good workout, the shiver of jumping into the lake on the first day of summer when the water is still cold. It makes Sid  _shout_ with joy, and he doesn’t get how he never knew this, never understood it could be like this, not a necessity except in the way that food and sleep and hockey are, all the things that are worthwhile.


End file.
